


The "Fun" of Middle Management

by dagas isa (dagas_isa)



Category: Dead Like Me
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-30
Updated: 2009-06-30
Packaged: 2017-10-07 23:50:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dagas_isa/pseuds/dagas%20isa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mason shows up late and complains that George never gives him any good assignments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The "Fun" of Middle Management

Telecommute. One of those new B.S. words the business world made up when they decided that workers shouldn't have to be trapped at the office to be well...trapped at the office.

A word that George sneers at even as she acknowledges that yes, this whole corporate soldier by day, reaper by...all the time couldn't work without it. Not that she complains at fewer days a week with Dolores "Let's hold an office-wide raffle to name my new kitten" Herbig. But still, both her jobs would be tremendously helped if someone could show up on time for once.

"Can you believe this, George?" Mason finally approaches with a large coffee cup in hand, "Irish cream latte, and not a speck of alcohol in it."

"Irish cream is just a flavoring." George doesn't miss a beat. "You're late."

"Where's Roxy and Daisy?"

"The airport most likely." George takes another sip of her tea and continues checking her email. Yes, Rimjob is her final suggestion for the Office Kitty Raffle. She'll be in the office to do interviews on Tuesday and Thursday. Attached are the job priority listings. Blah. Blah. Blah.

Mason grabs a chair with all the eloquence of metal grinding against vinyl. "What the fuck are they doing at the airport."

"Probably catching that plane to Hawaii. Volcanic eruption."

"That's not fair, Georgie! Why do they always get the good assignments?"

"It's a terrible tragedy. Dozens of people are going to die. Plus, I hear it rains everyday."

"Yeah, for like five minutes in the afternoon. Then it's pig roasts, grass skirts, and foofy drinks with the umbrella in them all night long. This is fucking Seattle, it rains everyday all the time anyway."

Everything changes, nothing lasts forever, not life, not even reapers, but some things never change. No matter who the head reaper is. Take Mason, still sitting backwards at a chair, even though their usual meeting place is now a coffee shop (buy ten drinks get the eleventh free) and not a waffle house (who thought replacing Der Waffle Haus with a Denny's was an even remotely acceptable idea). He's still a screw up, only now instead of being Rube's responsibility, he's hers.

Aren't promotions fun?

"Now that's not true." George closes out her email, and hands Mason two post-its. "Forecast for the rest of this week is nothing but sunny and warm.

Mason grabs both the post-its and looks at them. Two people, same location. T.O.D, in about three hours. "Fourth and Pine! It's this another parade? Last week I had to reap a few of those nude bike riders up in Fremont. One of the guys, tiger print chaps, nothing underneath them. George. Nothing underneath."

George shudders. "Don't remind me. And no, it's not another parade. It's Thursday, Mason. No one has a parade in the middle of the week."

Mason leans in conspiratorially. "You're becoming like him, George..."

"I am not!" George knows exactly who Mason is talking about.

"Sure you are. All you need is a fucking button up sweater and some extra-fucking-crispy bacon, and you'd be his reincarnation."

She shrugs and takes another sip of her tea. "There's no need to revamp a system that works. Just update the technology interface for efficiency."

"See, that's something he'd say! Except for maybe that technology part." Mason takes the lid off his latte and a bottle from his coat and puts a few dashes of what's in the bottle (George doesn't ask, and the label probably hasn't been on the bottle since the 1980s) into the latte. He replaces the lid, and takes a swing and grimaces.

"That. Is. Disgusting." Mason chokes and spits it out. A few of the laptop-toting patrons stare at him and scoot their drinks and electronics away.

"So tell me, why do Roxy and Daisy get all the good assignments. Spain. Miami. Daisy got to go to Tokyo. Why didn't I get a trip to Tokyo?"

"That's because Daisy and Roxy show up on time and don't complain about their reaps." George puts on her reading glasses, yes even reapers can lose their eyesight because of staring at computer screens all day, strange that a knife to the chest means nothing more than a short quick pain but she still has to worry about carpal tunnel.

"That's bullshit!" Mason is screaming loud enough for the whole shop to hear. "You heard Daisy last week when she had to reap that sanitation worker. She let that guy get hit by the garbage truck before she even tried to take his soul."

"She shows up on time." See, this is why George never asked to be brought into middle-management. Better to be a cog in the machine than the person that all the cogs complain to and about. "When you arrive two hours after everyone else, yes all the good assignments are going to get taken. That's why Roxy got the VIPR last week. That's why Daisy got to go to Tokyo last spring, and that's why they're on their way to Hawaii now, while you're reaping old guys with their balls hanging out. Death sucks, doesn't it, Mason? Want some good assignments, show up on time."

Now everyone is staring at them, and it's only George's glare and possibly the topic of conversation that keeps the barista (new and easily intimidated) from tossing them out.

"I'll show you! I'm going to be here so early tomorrow that it's going to make everyone else look late." Mason storms out before George can remind him that Roxy and Daisy are going to be in Hawaii. Then he stomps back up the stairs (George always gets a second floor seat, the better for watching people walk by) and grabs his drink. "Oh, and by the way, that hipster look really works for you. A+ on the glasses, George. Really pretty."

Hipster? Her? George scoffs. "It's not going to get you any better assignments!" She calls to his retreating back. Still though... did he just call her pretty? "I'm not a hipster!"

She must admit though, she did start thinking a bit more charitably towards him.


End file.
